


polar opposites

by leslie057



Series: Jancy week 2020 [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, High School, Interrupted Moment, Jealousy, Post-Season/Series 02, Romance, Teen Romance, kissing duh, little siblings are annoying, or are they??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: where there is an older sibling’s love, there is another’s hate...written for jancy week day 1: family
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Series: Jancy week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994266
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	polar opposites

  
“I mean, Will wanted me to take him to Schererville tomorrow.”

“ _So you can_ pick me up at 6.”

He doesn’t mean to glare, but his brow crumples without his permission. 

Predictably, the less-than-subtle reaction is challenged. “What? Don’t tell me this is your actual excuse.” 

They’re sitting on the floor beneath her window, leaning against the small bench there. This doesn’t require a real argument, not yet anyway, but he recognizes the surfeit of space between them. Space that he, in all fairness, was the one to create. His arms are half-crossed and he’s twisted his hips in such a way that they don’t face her. “It’s _not_ an excuse, but I promised him—”

“Then you just like making plans with him before I get the chance to ask you. You know, Friday is the day we always do things.”

He tries not to laugh at the trace of desperation in her voice. “I know.”

“It’s a day you don’t have work.”

This time, he does laugh a little. Will there not be more Fridays? “I know that, too.” 

Her eyes falter from behind the lenses of her clunky reading glasses, and she tosses _Miss Lonelyhearts_ aside—something _he_ asked her to read, something she was enjoying, but now something she’ll likely pretend to hate.

If she were genuinely mad, it would be evident. Her ears would flush, and she’d spit out her objections in practiced monotone, spreading out a thin layer of indifference that gives away her anger faster than screaming ever would. So, no, she’s not mad. She’s annoyed. 

Maybe he should expect her to not get it, but what’s so hard to understand? He’s always done things with Will. When they were young, he needed distractions. Protection. To make hideouts in the woods was to establish a safe place to be alone. To share music was to stifle mom and dad’s repetitive word-wars. Now, at seventeen, he likes distracting Will no less. If anyone needs it, it’s him. 

“Nancy. Will is my brother. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. That means forever. Before you. But, yeah, he’s thirteen. And if you’re jealous…”

“I’m not jealous—”

“If you’re _jealous of him_ —”

“Then I have AIDS in the belfry, I know,” she says. A reference to the phrase Carol used in their English class one morning when she was hungover. The inside joke lightens the tension between them, sort of. He scoots a little closer to her. 

“I just want you to realize that not everyone gets sick at the sight of their brother.”

“I never said I get sick at the sight of my brother. Now, I said I hate his guts, but that’s not the same thing.” 

He holds back on rolling his eyes at her. She tries so hard to sell their incompatibility, but she obviously cares about him. He can’t figure out why she hides it. “Okay, well, Will is cool. And I _like_ doing things with him. Is that alright with you?” 

“Shut up. Of course it’s alright. What’s so exciting about Shittyville anyway?”

“ _Scherer_ ville. And...a movie theatre. It’s way better than ours because they get movies in so much faster.”

She pushes his physics textbook aside and starts to crawl in his lap. Her knees press in on his thighs. “You’ve never taken me to this magic movie theatre.” 

“You don’t even like going to the movies.”

“You know, as a fellow older sibling, you’re supposed to have my back. You’re supposed to be able to make _fun_ of our little brothers with me.”

He readjusts so he’s sitting up straighter. His fingers run down her calves and tease the hem of the black pants she wore to school. Absentmindedly, he plays with the cuffs of her soft quarter socks. “What would we make fun of them for?”

“Come on, for _everything._ How they know more about a role-playing game than they do about the Cold War, how they used to copy our every move when they were younger but now they pretend to ignore us—oh, _oh_ —and what the hell is with seventh graders and _Inspector Gadget_? I swear, Mike has some deep obsession with that show. Like, an unironic obsession. I always catch him watching it and—” 

“Hey, hey. Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there a reason you’re still talking about him while you’re sitting on me like this?” 

At that, splashes of pink creep onto the sides of her face. “No good reason,” she mumbles. He removes her glasses for her and gives her his mouth. The pressure is scarce, almost too soft but somehow too much, charming and unexpectedly _immersive_. In no time, he has secured her often unsecurable attention. She reciprocates intently, pulling on his hair as if they have time to play; they don’t, he’s supposed to be home for dinner in twenty minutes. In spite of that, she squirms and kisses, and it’s honestly embarrassing how this has become the solution to all their disagreements. 

At least, it is for her. 

“If your jealousy is too much to handle, I guess you could come with us tomorrow. You like gory stuff, right?” 

She shifts while keeping her forehead against his, and the perfect riposte turns up on her tongue, but…

“Whatever you guys are doing, stop doing it,” her brother orders while barging in. They groan and separate—deep down, they saw this coming—and Mike doesn’t even miss a beat. “I’m gonna take your old walkie because El doesn’t have one and Dustin won’t share any of his.” 

“What makes you think it would work all the way from the cabin?” 

“I don’t know,” he digs around on her wicker shelf, knocking a million things over, “but I still wanna give it to her.” 

“Okay, but watch your hands—”

“I got it!”

He charges at the door, but before he escapes, she speaks up. “Hey Mike, Jonathan thinks I should take you to the movies like he does Will.”

“Wait, I didn’t say—”

As his reply comes, it’s shouted from the stairwell. “Sorry, I have to go to the movies with mom that night!” 

  
  



End file.
